


Cinematic Boy

by pixelated



Series: Cinematic Boy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American AU, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Camboy Remus, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, M/M, Masturbation, Pornstar Remus, Semi-autobiographical, Trigger Warning: Taylor Swift, awkward dry humping, because why not, but nothing bad happens i promise, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelated/pseuds/pixelated
Summary: Remus Lupin attempts to navigate his unorthodox career and his love life in a new city that has so much to show and offer him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [LeCheesie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeCheesie/profile) for betaing this and to my followers who begged for more of [Déjà Vu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182564). There will be a few chapters of this.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://remus-john-lupin.tumblr.com/)!

Remus slips his phone into his back pocket as he slides on socked feet across his apartment’s grey speckled terrazzo floor and into the kitchen. He shimmies and shakes his hips, grabbing the almond milk from the fridge while quietly singing along to the Sonic Youth track playing through his earbuds as he spins on his toes to plop the carton on the counter behind him next to his bowl and spoon.  
  
He’d much prefer listening to music without the cumbersome earbuds but it’s nine-thirteen on a Sunday morning and even though the traffic is already roaring outside, he doesn’t want to bother his neighbors. He’s only just moved in after all, and doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot, but he’s absolutely floating on cloud nine.  
  
Living in Los Angeles is surreal— he’s been here not even three weeks and he’s already making friends and hooking up with hot guys at parties. Okay, _one_ hot guy at _one_ party, but still, Remus never even dreamed of living a life like this a few years ago. He figured he would just finish school, find a normal job where he could utilize his degree in library science, eventually meet a decent but equally boring man, maybe adopt a dog, and stay in Minnesota for perpetuity with its _‘oh yeah you betcha’_ and its tater tot hotdishes. But, ever since meeting that recruiter at _Jetset_ , one of the gay clubs back home, things had turned completely around for him. He started making movies— solo at first, then with other guys. And then things just kept snowballing.  
  
There had been decent adult work in Minneapolis— it’s not a small town by any means— but more often than not, Remus found himself turning down shoots because they were simply too far away, often in St. Louis or Chicago or even Winnipeg. He had more than a few movies under his belt, but he’d mostly been camming, and while that’s plenty of fun, it’s not as lucrative as doing an actual full-length scene. So, the recruiter had gotten him in touch with a big name in the industry— a man named Albus who, after seeing Remus’s photos and videos and confirming his clean test results, immediately offered to fly him out to California for permanent, regular work. High-paying work. He was even offered an advance to help pay for his apartment and get settled in.  
  
And even though Albus is older, he’s not a creep at all. From what Remus has seen and heard so far, he treats all of his performers with respect and keeps his distance. So, Remus had signed with _Phoenix Productions_ almost instantly. Really, the deal was too good to pass up.  
  
His apartment is a little studio on the very top of a smallish building with just enough room for the few things he brought along with him. It has a tiny kitchen with only three cupboards, an even tinier bathroom with a shower (but no tub) and chipped turquoise tiles that have probably been there since the 90s, and the living area has awful, peeling palm tree patterned wallpaper that is more tacky than kitschy. But, it came furnished, thankfully, with a bed, a dresser, a rolling desk, a sofa, and a few tables, and it’s just a short bus ride to the _Phoenix_ headquarters, so really, it’s perfect for him, for now.  
  
Remus’s phone dings from inside his pocket and he retrieves it, shutting off the music and pulling the earbuds out. He glances at it as he pours himself a bowl of sugary cereal (he’s not too concerned with eating healthily like other people in the industry are— he’s always been super thin) and sees it’s a request for a private cam show. He opens the email and since he hasn’t got any plans today, agrees to do the show this evening at nine.  
  
These shows aren’t cheap. And on top of the base price, fans often tip in extra cash or the occasional gift. He doesn’t necessarily need the money, but it’s good to stay relevant and keep people coming back for more.  
  
After downing his breakfast, Remus tosses his empty bowl and spoon into the sink, hops into the shower for a quick scrub and to shave his face (and bits), then brushes his teeth and hair and throws some clean clothes on.  
  
He needs caffeine next and he still hasn’t found the time to buy a coffee machine, but thankfully there’s a Starbucks just across the way. He scoops up his phone, wallet, and keys, hurries down the stairs, waves to Mrs. Figg, the cat lady on the first floor, then steps out of the building, into the California sunshine and smog, and crosses the street.  
  
He stays there a while, sipping his cappuccino, crossed ankles propped up on the vacant chair across from him as he scrolls through Facebook and answers messages from fans. His phone dings again— this time it’s a text from an unknown number. He taps and opens the message.  
  
**Unknown** : Hey, what are you doing later?  
  
**Remus** : That depends… who is this?  
  
**Unknown** : Oh sorry. It’s Sirius, from the party last night.  
  
Remus smiles and bites his lip as he taps in a response. Sirius had been funny and charming, not to mention ridiculously handsome. As soon as he saw Sirius making eyes at him from across the crowded living room, he had to go over and introduce himself. He always was a sucker for those bad-boy types, and Sirius fit that fantasy entirely.  
  
He’d also thoroughly enjoyed watching Sirius struggle to figure out where he’d seen him before. And honestly, it felt great to know Sirius had probably jerked off to his videos. Just the thought of that excites him.  
  
**Remus** : Hey! I have a thing tonight at 9, but I’m free all day.  
  
**Unknown** : How much of the city have you seen so far? Been to any of the beaches?  
  
**Remus** : I went to the Santa Monica pier but I didn’t do the beach thing bc it was really crowded. Just ate sushi and people watched.  
  
**Unknown** : You’re talking to a local here. forget Santa Monica. I know of a much more secluded beach.  
  
**Unknown** : I can pack us a picnic dinner if you’re interested.  
  
**Remus** : What, like a date?  
  
**Unknown** : Uhhhh maybe? Is that ok?  
  
**Remus** : I mean, yeah. Of course.  
  
**Remus** : Where is it? Can I take a bus there?  
  
**Unknown** : I can pick you up. You live in G & F’s building right? Which #?  
  
**Remus** : 301  
  
**Unknown** : Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions?  
  
**Remus** : Actually yeah, I’m vegan, but I can pick something up if it’s too much of a hassle.  
  
**Unknown** : No no, it’s fine. I can work with that. Be ready around 6 and bring a jacket.  
  
**Remus** : Why the jacket?  
  
**Unknown** : You’ll see.  
  
Remus chuckles to himself and sends a thumbs-up emoji before pocketing his phone and tossing his cup into the recycling bin. He exits the coffee shop and darts back across the street, dodging honking cars and black exhaust through stop-and-go traffic.  
  
Inside his building, Fabian is at the long row of aluminum letterboxes, flipping through his mail. He looks up, waiting as Remus unlocks the door.  
  
“Sooo, Sirius Black, huh?” Fabian smirks and leans against the metal, crossing his arms. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”  
  
“You know, you had a chance to gossip last night,” Remus hums, sliding his mail key into his box. “And you didn’t go for it.”  
  
“Yeah, but you and Gid were both buzzed and what’s the fun in that?” His smile widens as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.  
  
Fabian and Gideon Prewett are both tall, lanky, freckled men with bright orange hair. Not exactly Remus’s type, but he doesn’t fail to notice that they are decently good-looking. The brothers are his only friends in LA so far, and he feels especially lucky to have other queer guys in the building to bond with although Remus is starting to suspect that most people in LA are at least a little bit queer.  
  
Remus rolls his eyes but returns the smile. “Alright then. Spill the tea. Which one of you slept with him?” He grabs his mail and flips through it quickly— it’s all junk and _‘welcome to the neighborhood’_ coupons. He tosses all of it into the recycling bin by the door.  
  
Fabian laughs. “Oh no. Neither of us. He’s cute, but he’s kind of a player. You might not want to get involved.”  
  
Remus shrugs and closes his box. “That man is more than just cute. But I’m not looking for anything serious or exclusive. I just got here. I’m only trying to meet people and make some friends.”  
  
“Sure. Just looking out for you.” Fabian smiles and pushes himself off of the wall, then nudges Remus’s shoulder. “Wanna come by for dinner later? Fajitas and tequila?”  
  
“Ah, I’d love to, but I’ve got a date.”  
  
“With Sirius?”  
  
Remus laughs. “Yeah, with Sirius. Some other time?”  
  
“I’ll hold you to it!”  
  
They exchange a wave and Remus hurries back upstairs and into his apartment.  
  
——  
  
At a quarter til six the intercom buzzes, and Remus presses the button to let Sirius know he’ll be right down. He glances at his reflection in the full-length mirror on his bathroom door— he looks good, he thinks, fuckable, even though he’s not necessarily trying to get laid. He combs his fingers through his curls, straightens his glasses, smoothes his hands over his clothing, then grabs his jacket, skips down the two flights of stairs, and pushes open the glass door.  
  
There Sirius is, standing on the sidewalk, looking absolutely immaculate with his long, dark hair pulled back and… a leather jacket? And, _oh no_ , a helmet under his arm.  
  
“Hi,” Sirius grins. He leans down and kisses Remus’s cheek, and Remus can’t help but smile back at him, stunned.  
  
“Excuse me, but what the fuck is that?” he asks, pointing to the helmet. “Don’t tell me you have a motorcycle.”  
  
“I have a motorcycle,” Sirius says evenly. “Have you ridden on one before?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Are you scared?”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Remus glances behind Sirius and there it is— huge and shiny and dark, just like its owner, and he can’t wait to get it between his legs. “Oh my god,” he breathes.  
  
“You like it?”  
  
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any sexier, but _you have a motorcycle_ .”  
  
Sirius barks out a laugh and wraps his free arm around Remus’s shoulders, leading him over to the bike. He drops his arm to slip the helmet over his head and tightens the chinstrap. “Is that your only jacket?” He gestures to the hoodie in Remus’s hand. “Do you have anything thicker?”  
  
“Thicker? We’re in Los Angeles. It’s 90 something degrees. Why do I need a jacket at all?”  
  
“In case of a slide,” Sirius says, then laughs when Remus’s eyes widen. “Don’t worry! I’ve never had an accident. I’ll take good care of you.” He takes his own jacket off, exposing strong, muscular arms, and Remus has to bite his lip to hold in the little moan of delight he feels tickling his throat. “Here, wear mine. I’ll wear yours.”  
  
“But—” Remus starts, but Sirius has already switched jackets and is putting the hoodie on. It’s much too small on his taller, broader frame. It’s kind of endearing.  
  
“Hurry up. I didn’t feed the meter.”  
  
Remus just scoffs and slips the baggy jacket on, and the sleeves are so long they cover his hands. Sirius pulls a second helmet out from one of the side bags and places it over Remus’s head.  
  
“Good?” Sirius asks. Remus nods, blinking up at him through the visor as Sirius fiddles with the chinstrap. “I hate to cover up those beautiful curls, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He smacks the tail-end of the bike twice with his hand. “Alright, let’s go.”  
  
Sirius flings one long, denim-clad leg over the bike and Remus shuffles on behind him, moving close against his back. He wraps his arms around Sirius, pressing his hands to hard abdominals as the other man kickstarts the bike, and it’s almost vulgar how nice it feels. Before Remus knows it, he’s off to who knows where to do who knows what with this man he’s known for not even a full 24 hours.  
  
It’s exhilarating, clinging to this devastatingly hot guy on the back of a motorcycle at seventy miles per hour with the wind whipping around them. He feels like a child on a theme park ride, and Remus can’t help but let out a giggle as the bright cerulean ocean tumbles along beside them. He doesn’t even notice the heat inside the leather jacket. It’s just bliss.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, they’re pulling into a parking spot on the side of a private road. There’s a narrow path littered with palm fronds through a copse to their left, and even with the engine still running, Remus can hear the waves of the Pacific crashing against the rocks.  
  
Sirius switches off the engine and knocks the kickstand down, and Remus makes an attempt to undo the latch under his chin. Sirius already has his helmet off and hanging from the handlebar, one foot on the gravel as he swings his leg up and over the bike, leaving Remus perched on the back like a little bird. He laughs and moves to help him with the strap, then pulls off the helmet and sets it on the seat. He smiles at Remus, the corners of his grey eyes crinkling with mirth, and takes both of his hands into his rather large ones, helping him down to the ground.  
  
“So, how was that?” Sirius asks, and Remus just shakes his head, raising a hand to re-fluff his now flattened hair. He hasn’t stopped grinning since he laid eyes on the bike.  
  
“It was absolutely exhilarating,” he says with a shaky breath.  
  
“Good.”  
  
Sirius unclasps one of the sidebags and pulls it off of the bike, then slings it over his shoulder as he leads Remus down the path.  
  
“Where are we, anyway?” Remus finally questions, and Sirius spins around to face him, beaming as he walks backwards. They’re out of the trees— a white, sandy beach looms straight ahead with the water stretching out forever, for as far as he can see, and Sirius spreads his arms as wide as the ocean.  
  
“Welcome to Malibu!”  
  
Gulls are cawing and there’s a warm breeze rippling through the trees. Large, dark rocks line the coast with crevices between them just barely wide enough to walk through, and white-tipped waves are crashing against them. The entire scene looks like something snatched from that old movie _From Here to Eternity_ , and Remus can’t help imagining himself and Sirius rolling half-naked in the foamy water. There is literally no one else here— they could probably get away with it, if they wanted.  
  
Out of the bag, Sirius pulls out a couple of water bottles and containers of food from some Mediterranean place, along with a blanket that they spread out and settle upon. Remus slips the heavy jacket off and folds it neatly on top of the blanket as Sirius pulls the hoodie off.  
  
“So,” Sirius starts, already smirking at him devilishly. “John Moony, huh?”  
  
Remus snorts, shrugging his shoulders. “Well I didn’t want to use my real name. The joke is to use your middle name and the name of your first pet, so I just went with it.”  
  
“I thought it was your first pet and the street you grew up on,” Sirius laughs.  
  
“There are variations. I’m probably the only one who actually did that.”  
  
“And was Moony a dog or a cat?”  
  
“Neither,” Remus says, pausing to pop a stuffed grape leaf into his mouth. “She was a very angry rabbit.”  
  
They chat and gorge on falafel and hummus as they watch the waves lap the shore. They talk about everything and nothing— their favorites, their hobbies, their friends. After a while, Remus realizes they’ve subconsciously scooted closer to each other, and his head is dangerously close to resting on Sirius’s shoulder. He straightens himself up.  
  
“Why porn?” Sirius eventually asks after they’ve both discussed their majors and Sirius’s work, and honestly, Remus has been waiting for that question. It always comes up.  
  
“I don’t know,” Remus replies. “It just kind of fell into my lap. It wasn’t something I sought out. I was approached.”  
  
“That makes sense.”  
  
“Hm? How do you mean?”  
  
“I mean,” Sirius laughs, turning to look at him, “you’re fucking hot. Of course people want to see you naked. I definitely do.”  
  
“Oh shut up,” Remus says, but he can’t help but laugh too, and he feels his cheeks redden a bit. He’s utterly surprised at how giddy he feels around Sirius, but he chalks it up to the adrenaline of being in a new city, on a completely new adventure altogether.  
  
“Honestly, I went home last night and looked you up.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Did you like what you saw?” His face is on fire now and he can feel the hot, prickling blush move down his neck and over his shoulders. He leans back on his hands and stares up at Sirius with as much nonchalance as he can muster.  
  
“You have no idea about the things I want to do to you.”  
  
“Go on and tell me, then,” Remus purrs. “I might let you do them.”  
  
Sirius cocks his his to the side and grins at him knowingly. His eyes drift down to Remus’s mouth, and Remus can’t help but put on his best come-hither look— one that he’s mastered after watching himself on video dozens of times, a sleepy-eyed sort of thing, blinking coquettishly with a hint of a smile as he bites his bottom lip.  
  
“You are quite the little tease,” Sirius says with a deep, gruff voice, inching closer to him. He reaches a hand up to comb his fingers through Remus’s hair, tugging gently to expose the length of his neck. Sirius leans down and Remus expects a little nuzzle or a kiss, but instead he receives a long lick from his collarbone up to his ear. “For starters, I’d like to splay you out right here on the beach,” he rasps into Remus’s ear. “I’d suck you off and fuck you better than any of your co-stars do.”  
  
Despite the heat of the sun settling low on the pink, hazy horizon, Remus shivers against the other man’s body. He allows one hand to slide up and over the expanse of Sirius’s muscular chest, then drapes his arm around the back of Sirius’s neck as he’s lowered down to his back across the sandy blanket. Sirius settles himself between Remus’s legs and leans down to press their mouths together. He rolls his hips, and when Remus’s lips part to release a quiet moan, his tongue slips inside and silences him.  
  
Sirius kisses like he’s starved, Remus thinks, but they’re both hungry for it. It’s as if they’ve both got too much pent up energy— all growling and wet with hands everywhere and Sirius’s hips thrusting to push his groin against Remus’s through their jeans. He bites Remus’s lip, then soothes it with a lick before leaving a trail of fiery kisses across Remus’s jaw and neck.  
  
“Sirius,” Remus whimpers as Sirius pushes the hem of his t-shirt up, warm fingers tickling Remus’s exposed stomach and inching down to the button of his blue jeans. “As much as I’d like to do this, I have to work at nine.”  
  
“So?” The word is panted out against Remus’s skin and Sirius slips a hand into his pants.  
  
“Sooo… I could probably go twice but the money shot needs to be perfect. I shouldn’t chance it.”  
  
“Oh,” Sirius says, realization dawning across his face. “Right. Sorry.” He pulls his hands away and rolls onto his back beside Remus, releasing a long sigh and throws the crook of his arm over his eyes.  
  
Remus just lies there for a moment and frowns as he re-buttons himself. His job always seems to get in the way of his personal life, but he figures he should’ve known Sirius only wanted to hook up when he texted him earlier.  
  
“Sorry. I suppose I should’ve said something,” he mumbles. He removes his glasses and wipes them on his shirt to brush away a few grains of sand, then slides them back onto his face.  
  
“No, no. It’s fine,” Sirius says, lifting the arm from his eyes and popping up to lean on his elbow.  
  
“I really didn’t mean to lead you on. Raincheck?”  
  
“Remus, really, it’s alright.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“Should I take you back home then?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
The men both begin collect the empty food boxes for the recycling and remain silent as the blanket is re-folded and shoved back into the bag. Remus feels as if he’s completely ruined Sirius’s evening. He likes him— he definitely wants to see him again, but he’s not sure that will happen now. He knows he shouldn’t feel obligated, that he can say no, but the truth of it is that he wants to.  
  
Walking back to the bike, he puts Sirius’s jacket on and shoves his hands into the deep pockets. The rough edge of a torn-off foil packet brushes against the fingers of his right hand and he frowns again. He takes his hands out and pushes his glasses up his nose before the helmet is back on his head, then again settles behind Sirius on the motorcycle before they’re on their way.  
  
The whole ride back, he’s completely turned on and hard against Sirius’s ass. He can’t help it and he’s certain Sirius can feel it, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Sirius rolls to a stop in front of Remus’s building, and Remus hops off before Sirius can even turn off the engine. Sirius removes his helmet first, then helps Remus with his, and smiles at him from his place on the bike.  
  
“So… I had fun,” Sirius says, and Remus just scoffs as he pulls off the leather jacket. “I’ll text you.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” he replies. Sirius’s face contorts like he’s in pain. They switch jackets. It’s the most awkward first date Remus has had since he was a teenager.  
  
“Alright then. See you around, I guess.”  
  
Remus only shrugs, avoiding his eyes. He just takes his keys out of his pocket and turns to leave. He doesn’t hear Sirius start the engine back up until he’s inside the building.  
  
——  
  
Five minutes til nine, Remus is wearing a purple silk robe with nothing underneath and sitting on the edge of his bed. His laptop is set up on the rolling desk and pulled up close, camera angled perfectly so that the full scope of his bed is in view, ring light switched on for even lighting, and a small selection of toys is lined up and ready beside a bottle of lube.  
  
He logs onto his website to start his show. His patron is already there waiting, so he smiles and flips his webcam and mic on and sets the show to private.  
  
“Hello darling,” Remus says breathily into the camera, slowly drawing his words out. “I hope you’re as ready for this as I am. I’ve been absolutely aching for it all day.”  
  
It’s corny but not a complete lie. He’s been wanting release since he had Sirius on top of him at the beach. His fingers slide smoothly along the hem of the robe and he pulls it down a bit to reveal a naked shoulder as he bats his eyelashes. It’s just a little tease, to get his guest going. Remus doesn’t recognize the username— he figures it’s a totally new customer and really wants to give them a terrific show to keep them coming back. He watches as the person types in a response.  
  
_“I have been too. You are really beautiful.”_ _  
_  
“Thank you!” Remus beams. “You’re so sweet. What should I call you?”  
  
There’s a pause. The person on the other end of the conversation types something, then seemingly deletes it and sends something else.  
  
_“You don’t need to know my name.”_ _  
_  
“Alright then, that’s not a problem,” Remus says, shaking his head but still smiling. Usually his patrons want him to call out some sort of name, even if it’s a nickname, so it’s a bit of an odd request. It doesn’t matter to him in the least bit, though. “What would you like me to do for you tonight, darling?”  
  
_“What do you usually do for these shows?”_ _  
_  
“Well, I do different things,” he offers thoughtfully, with a finger on his chin, “depending on what each of my guests wants to see. If it’s a multi-guest show, I tend to just start and they’ll throw out suggestions. If it’s a private one-on-one show like this, it can be anything from just sitting and talking with you, to stripping and getting off while you watch, to… kinkier things.”  
  
_“Do you have toys?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Yes, I do.” He gives the customer another sweet smile, holding up each toy to the camera as he continues. “I’ve got a few different dildos, a vibe, a butt plug, beads. You just let me know what you like.”  
  
_“First I want you to take your time removing that robe. Show me your gorgeous body.”_ _  
_  
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Remus laughs. He kneels on the bed facing the camera and moves his hands from his neck, down the exposed V of his chest, and to his thighs. Hiking the hem of the robe up a little, he flashes a bit of leg before he turns his back to the camera. He shimmies his other shoulder out of the silk, lets the robe fall open and drape around his waist, then shoots a seductive look over his shoulder and winks. Slowly, he unties the robe and tosses it onto the floor, running one hand over his naked backside. He gives his ass a playful smack then turns back around, cock in hand.  
  
_“Such a pretty ass. I’d love to bury my face in there and lick you until you’re begging for my cock.”_ _  
_  
Remus smirks and raises his eyebrows, but before he can give a sassy response to that, the man sends another message.  
  
_“Lie back and spread your legs for me. Let me get a good look at you.”_ _  
_  
He does as he’s asked, and either this guy is remarkably good at the dirty talk or he’s just too turned on from earlier, but Remus is already leaking. He grabs a few pillows and stacks them up to lean back on and opens his legs for his guest, giving him a full view of his balls and asshole as he begins to stroke himself.  
  
“Like this?” he asks teasingly, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock and smoothing the precome over his length. “How does this look?”  
  
_“You look phenomenal. Why don’t you get your favorite dildo and show me how you like to be fucked.”_ _  
_  
This is going to be a short session. He’s too pent up with sexual frustration to make this last, and despite the weird and disappointing ending to their date, he’s still thinking about Sirius. Maybe things would’ve ended on a better note if he hadn’t agreed to this cam show, but there’s no point in wondering. What’s done is done.  
  
So when Remus sucks two fingers into his mouth, he just lets himself keep thinking about when he had Sirius’s dick in his mouth in the bathroom at that party. When he pushes one finger then the other into his own ass, he thinks about how Sirius did it, how he immediately found Remus’s prostate and made him moan. When he lubes up a thick, flesh-colored dildo and eases it into himself, inch by inch, he wonders what it would be like to be thoroughly fucked by Sirius. He remembers that lovely cock and how it felt in his hand and wonders what it’d be like to be held down by Sirius, what it’d be like to tug on his thick, black hair, what it’d be like to moan against Sirius’s lips with his legs wrapped around his waist, his back arching, hand flying over his own cock as he’s fucked harder and harder until he comes.  
  
And then he comes, gasping and trembling with pleasure. He’s sweating and breathless and covered in his own semen when he gently pulls the dildo out of himself. He glances at the digital clock beside his bed and only twenty minutes have passed, which is disappointing. A new message flashing upon the screen catches his eye, and he sits up to read it.  
  
_“Christ, that was fucking hot. You are very good at what you do.”_ _  
_  
“Thank you,” Remus says with a bit of an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry though, I didn’t mean to finish so soon. I can give you a partial refund.”  
  
_“Don’t worry about it, John. I am perfectly satisfied. I’ll definitely contact you again to set something else up.”_ _  
_  
Before Remus can say thank you or give him another flirty line, the man tips him an extra $30 and exits the chat.  
  
Remus logs off of the website and shuts his laptop before rolling off of his bed and padding naked through the apartment to the shower.  
  
He officially starts work at _Phoenix_ tomorrow— just two scenes in a short film where he’s supposed to be pretending to be having an affair with his step-dad. A completely boring and overdone trope.  
  
He already knows his mind will be elsewhere— on grey eyes and dark hair. On broad shoulders and a hard body and large hands.  
  
On how badly he already wants to see Sirius again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in this chapter for a spiked drink and attempted non-con. Nothing bad happens though! Except for the Taylor Swift mention.

For Remus, the past few weeks have been trudging along at a snail’s pace.

He’s only had three days of contracted work in three weeks which is perfectly typical considering his choice of career, but it’s the rest of his time that he struggles to fill with anything meaningful. He still doesn’t know very many people and finds himself bored out of his mind more often than not.

The sun has tanned his pasty Midwestern skin and freckled his shoulders, and he could almost pass as a true Californian. Most days, he just sits on the beach reading or listening to music on his phone until the sky goes soft and a myriad of neon pinks and purples and greens and yellows glow brightly above him. He watches as the sun slips past the horizon and the darkness of the night takes over, watches the pelicans and the bats, watches all of the people around him come and go like the tide— but he’s still lonely.

At least there’s Fabian and Gideon (without whom he’d be completely lost), but they both have conventional office jobs and work during the day. They never fail to include him in their plans though, always happily dragging Remus along to a restaurant or a bar or a club when the weekends roll around.

Remus is thankful for that. And loneliness aside, he is also thankful that he doesn’t have to sit behind a desk all day, staring at a computer screen like a corporate zombie, watching the clock tick tick tick until it’s time to go home. Instead of a windowless office or a stifling cubicle, he has the studio and its bright, flattering lights. Instead of a boss breathing down his neck to reach a deadline, he has a crew to bring him hot towels and snacks. Instead of wearing a uniform and a name tag, he gets to be nude and free. Instead of punching numbers or tediously arranging and rearranging files all week for a shitty paycheck, he gets to fuck, come, and then go home.

He’s lucky and he knows it. Most men would kill to work in this industry, gay or straight, to get paid to act on this basic, primal, human instinct and be around attractive, naked people.

He is living his absolute best life.

Right now, he’s lying back on a squeaky weight bench with one skinny leg thrown over the dark shoulder of adult film legend Kingsley Shacklebolt, who, Remus thinks, probably has the best pseudonym in the entire business.

They’re wrapping up a scene in which Kingsley was Remus’s handsy personal trainer and Remus had been a client overly eager for a ‘proper workout’. He’s been fucked so thoroughly that his glasses shook right off of his face and fell onto the fake gym’s padded floor a while ago. Kingsley is blurry, just slightly out of focus, but Remus’s eyes keep rolling back into his head anyway.

Kingsley grunts and pushes Remus’s legs further apart as he pounds into him with his magnificent nine inch cock, and Remus can feel his impending orgasm starting to unwind low in his belly with every nudge against his prostate.

“Oh my god,” Remus moans, only barely playing it up for the camera as he arches his back and wraps his fingers around his own erection. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Yeah, come on. Come for me,” Kingsley commands, voice as deep and velvety as his smooth skin, hips pistoning faster as he grips Remus’s thighs. The man is an absolute machine, standing nearly a foot taller than Remus and easily has over a hundred pounds on him. The two of them had only been contracted for a thirty minute scene, but it’s been going on for almost an hour now. Remus idly wonders if Kingsley’s stamina is natural or comes in pill form, but his brain is mush and probably dripping out of his ears so the thought doesn’t linger for long.

The cameraman steps in closer as Remus pulls on his cock, and it doesn’t take much more before he’s throwing his head back and spilling his load across his own chest. Kingsley pulls out, removes the condom, tosses it somewhere Remus doesn’t see, then moves to the end of the bench. Remus opens his mouth, tongue lolling out, and Kingsley finishes on his face.

He licks his lips and spits out the few drops that actually made it into his mouth, letting the mess dribble down his chin and cheek, and Remus just lies there as the cameraman pans down his body. He’s completely spent and covered in come, all loose-limbed with sweat-drenched curls plastered against his forehead and the back of his neck.

“Aaaand _CUT_!” the director, a guy who everyone unfortunately just calls Dung, shouts. He’s got a splotchy red face and a thick Boston accent that sounds comically jarring amidst all of the laid back Californians, and he looks as if he’s been in one too many bar brawls despite his short stature. “That’s a wrap, boys!”

Kingsley reaches out and Remus snatches up his glasses from the floor before taking the hand and pulling himself up to sit. He grabs a warm, wet towel from one of the crewmen and is wiping his face when Dung strolls over.

“Brilliant! Amazing chemistry between you two! Kingsley, as always, you are a freakin’ god. And John!” He places a hand over his own heart and sighs, faux-dreamily. “You beauty! You knock me out every time I direct you, kid. You’re America’s next sweetheart. You’re a goddamn supernova!”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Remus says with a confident smirk, flattered, but thinking that it’s a bit creepy to be called _kid_ after doing what he just did. He slides his glasses back on and wipes his chest with the towel, then takes a clean robe from the same crewman, dismissing him with a nod as he stands and slips himself into it.

Dung moves to clap him on the shoulder, then stops his hand mid-air to understandably reconsider. He just smiles and shoots Remus two finger guns instead before turning and walking away.

“Are you alright?” Kingsley asks. He’s tucked inside his own robe now, looking down at Remus with a friendly smile.

“Are you kidding?” Remus laughs. “I just got dicked down by Kingsley Shacklebolt. I feel absolutely amazing.”

Kingsley chuckles. “Just making sure I didn’t hurt you. You looked a little out of it for a moment there.”

“Yes, well, I’m fine,” Remus says. “But thanks.”

“You bet.” Kingsley winks at him and turns to head toward the dressing rooms. Remus watches his backside as he goes for a moment, still dazed and a bit starstruck, then hurries to catch up to the other man.

“Um, Kingsley?”

They both stop outside of their respective dressing rooms and Kingsley turns to look at Remus, who attempts to cast the obvious loneliness and desperation aside and calm himself. He channels his inner sex-kitten by batting his eyelashes and touching the bare bit of other man’s chest between the lapels of his robe.

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe like to grab lunch with me? We could go back to mine and see what happens—”

Kingsley raises a hand to stop Remus’s rambling, shaking his bald head.

“It’s John, right?”

“Er— it’s Remus, actually.”

“Remus. Look, you’re a sweet kid—”

_Kid again._

“—and really sexy. And the scene was a lot of fun. But you know as well as I do that we’re not supposed to date each other or fuck outside of work. It’s messy and unprofessional.”

Remus drops his hand and nods. “Sure. Sorry. I didn’t know people actually followed that rule.”

“Not everyone does,” Kingsley says. “But I do, and it’d be wise if you do, too. Just a few words of wisdom, coming from a veteran of the industry.”

“Sure,” Remus says again, fiddling with the end of his robe’s belt. “Thanks. I do appreciate the advice.”

“You bet. Besides, this is LA. You’re young and beautiful and there are plenty of other young, beautiful people to meet,” Kingsley says, playfully nudging Remus’s shoulder. “Go have fun. Live your life. I’ll see you around, okay? Hopefully we can do another scene together sometime.”

Remus smiles up at him at nods again before turning around and pushing the door of dressing room number two open. He locks it behind him and glances at his reflection in the mirror, scowling at his ruffled _I just got railed_ appearance as he picks up his phone from the vanity table.

Still no messages.

It’s been three weeks and still nothing from Sirius.

Remus isn’t sure why he keeps hoping for something to happen— the man clearly isn’t interested and has moved on. He probably decided Remus’s career is too much of a burden to bother with. Fabian had mentioned Sirius was a player anyway, so what does Remus care?

He tosses his phone back onto the table and crosses the small room to the shower, adjusts the water temperature, then drops the robe to the floor and hops inside the stall.

He simply can’t get that man out of his mind, no matter how much he tries. Sirius had just rolled up on his stupid motorcycle and ruined everything. Remus came to LA to start fresh and meet interesting people, and yet he’s stupidly stuck on the first guy he fooled around with out here like some dumbass virginal teenager. He feels like an idiot.

After showering and re-dressing, Remus gathers his things into his gym bag and starts to head out of the building when he’s stopped at the front desk by Emmeline, the receptionist slash scheduler slash assistant to Albus, who waves him over silently with her ear pressed to the desk phone.

“Uh huh,” she says into it with her heavy Mexican accent, rolling her eyes and miming a talking mouth with her hand. “Okay. I’ll let Albus know. Okay. Yes, sir. Alright then. You too. Bye-bye.” She drops the phone onto the receiver and looks up at Remus, who’s just been waiting patiently. “Sorry about that. Gil Lockhart wants to contract a few Phoenix guys for a movie in Honolulu. Which is fine, but he never fucking shuts up. You’d think he’d use an assistant, but no, I have to speak with his boring ass every damn time.”

He recognizes the name. Gil Lockhart’s movies always have beautiful and extravagant settings, but he puts so much money into producing them that he only makes one a year. Remus raises his eyebrows. “Hawaii? Really?”

“Sí, really. Interested?”

“I mean, yeah,” he laughs, “of course. But I doubt they’d send me. I’m too new.”

“Albus has been known to make exceptions for exceptional people,” she says with a wink.

Remus narrows his eyes. “And what, exactly, does that mean?”

Emmeline spins in her chair to grab a sheet of paper from the fax machine behind her. “This just came in,” she says. “You’ve been requested for a lot more work next week, Bonito, if you’re up for it.” She spins back around, sliding the sheet across the counter to him with one burgundy-painted fingernail.

He adjusts the gym bag on his shoulder and looks down at the sheet. It’s a tentative schedule— a list of scenes Albus wants him to do and with whom. There’s nothing outrageous about the scenes, but he’s been set for something every other day.

Remus glances back up at Emmeline. “Is this normal?” he asks.

“It’s not abnormal,” she says, shrugging. “You’re the hot thing right now. Your videos are generating tons of hits.”

“Wow.”

“Sí, wow. So maybe Hawaii isn’t out of the question. Lots of steamy sex, a private beach, tanned guys, fruity cocktails,” she waggles her thick, penciled-in eyebrows. “Sounds fun. Drink a piña colada for me if you go, Bonito.”

Of course, potential beach sex only makes him think of Sirius and the wonderful time they’d had before it all went to shit, but Sirius’s silence has spoken volumes and Remus knows he should just brush the man off and move on, focus on his career, and attempt to meet more new people. Like Kingsley said— there’s a whole city full of good looking, interesting people for him to explore.

He signs off on the schedule and hands it back to Emmeline. She makes him a copy, and he folds the sheet up and stuffs it into his bag, blows Emmeline a kiss goodbye, then heads to the bus stop to catch the silver line back to his apartment.

——

When he gets home, he sticks the schedule to his fridge with a novelty magnet of the Hollywood sign that has the name JOHN on it instead (he never can find REMUS on anything) in big, black letters on white rectangles. He warms up a frozen meal in the microwave, then takes it and settles down on his little sofa to eat and watch Netflix, but nothing really catches his eye so he ends up eating in silence.

He’s antsy and bored, so he snatches his phone up and opens his group message with the Prewett brothers.

**Remus** : What’re you guys up to later?

He presses send and checks his email while he waits for a reply, only to find he’s got a message from his new regular customer looking to set up yet another cam show.

**Gideon** : No plans. Want to come hang and have a few drinks?

**Remus** : Yes please. Distract me from my ennui.

Remus likes this new guy. They’ve been setting up shows two to three times per week, which is more frequently than he’s ever had any one person request. Most of the time, repeat customers will request once a week and then trickle off to a few times per month. But this guy— he lays the compliments on thick and always tips extra, and he never asks for anything outrageous. Usually his requests are just _‘let me look at you’_ or _‘touch yourself for me’_ , they’ll flirt a little, and then they’re done until the next time.

**Fabian** : DRAMA QUEEN

**Fabian** : we’ll order a few pizzas for din with that shitty vegan cheese you like

**Remus** : You said you liked it!

**Fabian** : it was fine it just wasn’t CHEESE

**Gideon** : Ignore him! Just come over whenever you want!

He agrees to do a show for him on Sunday, in two days. Just as he’s about to toss his phone aside and lie down for a quick nap, his intercom buzzes sharply. He just blinks at it stupidly for a moment— he’s not expecting anyone— and then it buzzes again. He hurries over to the box and presses the two-way button.

“Yes?”

_“Hi, I have a delivery,”_ comes a male voice, crackling through the old speaker.

“Wrong apartment,” Remus responds. “I didn’t order anything.”

_“It says number 301.”_

“Oh. Alright. Come on up then.”

He furrows his brow in confusion but pushes the second button to unlock the downstairs door, thinking maybe his parents sent him a care package or perhaps he did order something and he just completely forgot. After a moment there’s a knock on his door, and when Remus opens it he’s immediately face-to-face with a ridiculously huge red flower.

“What the hell is this?” Remus asks, staring down the single thick-stalked bloom in its pretty brown glazed pot.

“An amaryllis,” the delivery guy says, extending a clipboard with a pen attached. “Sign, please.”

Remus blinks at him, but signs the form anyway. The guy hands the plant to Remus then simply turns and leaves without another word, so Remus shrugs and closes the door with the toe of his gym shoe before bringing it over to his sunniest window and placing it on the sill.

There’s a tiny card tied loosely around the stalk. Curious, Remus opens it to find three words and nothing more. _‘Thinking of you’_ it says, typed, not handwritten, with no for or from names or any other details. On the back of the card is the name and phone number of the flower shop, so Remus calls. What else can he do?

The woman who answers the phone says she can’t give out any information— the sender wished to remain anonymous. Remus can only conclude that, since there’s no name on it, there’s been some sort of mix-up. Maybe it was meant for the previous tenant. Why would anyone send him a flower, and such an unconventional one to boot?

——

“Who would send me a plant?” Remus asks, biting into another slice of Mushroom Delight. He’s sprawled out the floor of the Prewetts’ apartment, tipsy from one too many glasses of red wine. “What does that even mean?”

“Did it come with a note?” one of them questions from where he’s lying on the sofa, one leg thrown over the armrest. Gideon, he thinks, but he’s not sure who’s who anymore. They’re identical and he’s basically drunk.

“Yeah. It said _‘thinking of you’_.”

“It probably means someone’s thinking of you,” Fabian says, snorting and sloshing his drink onto the floor. “Whoops!”

“Yeah,” Remus giggles and drops his uneaten crust onto his plate, pushing it away. “But who? …Whom? Who? Whom.”

“Owl,” Fabian says, and all three of them burst out laughing, drinks abandoned to prevent any more spilling as they shake and keel over, wiping tears from their eyes. When they finally calm back down Fabian says, “Wait, maybe it was Sirius?”

“Nah, I haven’t heard from him in weeks. He’d text if he was _thinking of me_. That was all a one time thing, I think. Or one and a half. I dunno, we had that weird date.” Remus grabs his wine glass and takes a sip, but makes a sour face and pushes that away as well when he sets it back down on the coffee table.

Gideon shrugs. “Maybe it’s from your friends back home. Or your parents. Or— you said you’re getting more work? Maybe it’s from your boss.”

“Yeah, maybe, but _‘thinking of you’_?”

“Could’ve put the wrong card on there,” Gideon offers with another shrug. “Honestly, you’re probably reading too much into it.”

“You’re right. It’s not like it’s a big deal,” Remus says, getting up to his feet. He steps over to the sofa, wedging himself between the other two men. Gideon raises his head to make room, then plops it down onto Remus’s lap as his eyes flutter shut.

A moment of relative silence passes as Fabian stands and begins collecting the plates and empty wine bottles, carrying them into the kitchen. He returns for the pizza boxes and brings those back as well.

“I kind of liked him though,” Remus says. “Sirius, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, I warned you about that one,” Fabian slurs, dropping back into his spot on the sofa. “I adore him, he’s my friend, but at the same time, he’s conceited and full of himself and moves through people pretty quickly. Don’t feel bad. I’ve never seen him with the same person more than a handful of times, except for Marlene.”

“Marlene?”

“Yeah, you probably saw her at Benjy’s party that night. Tall blonde, super gorgeous, tits out to here?” Fabian makes a clumsy gesture and Remus snorts in confirmation. “They were hot and heavy for a while a few years back, but I don’t think he’s had anyone serious since.”

“What does she do?” Remus asks, already feeling a tinge of jealousy surge through the pit of his stomach. Or maybe that’s just the grease and alcohol.

“She’s some sort of model. Instagram influencer. Something like that. She gets paid to be pretty.” Fabian looks over to Remus and grins, sleepy-eyed. “Hey, you have something in common! Sirius sure has a type.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Remus says sarcastically, rolling his eyes but smiling as he droops a bit in his seat. “Anyway, not sure if I’m really his type. He probably just wanted another quick fuck but I told him no, so he never texted again. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve been there before. I’ll pout for another week or so and then I’ll be over it.” He waves a hand dismissively.

“Uh huh,” Fabian says, smirking.

“What?”

“It’s just… I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but it’s pretty clear to me that you’ve got it bad for him.”

“Bullshit. You’re drunk.”

“Maybe, but no, no bullshit.” Fabian raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Look, Benjy’s having another party tomorrow night. Sirius will likely be there. You should come. Just show up looking hot as hell and talk to him. He’ll be putty in your hands.”

“I dunno.”

“If anything else, you’ll meet some new people. I know you’re bored and probably homesick too.” He wraps a friendly arm around Remus’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. “Let’s get you out of this funk you’re in.”

Later, when Remus stumbles out of Fabian and Gideon’s shared apartment, he takes the shaky elevator (with the questionable sticker that says it was last inspected in 2011) instead of the stairs and decides that yes, he will go to that party and show Sirius Black exactly what he’s been missing.

——

The atmosphere of Benjy’s party is basically the exact same as the last time Remus was here— cringe-worthy pop music and way too many twenty- and thirty-somethings crammed into one room, most of them with red cups or beer bottles in their grasps. He dodges flailing hands and jabbing elbows as he follows the Prewetts to the kitchen for drinks.

The apartment is open concept, thankfully, otherwise fitting this many people inside would be even more of a challenge. The living area and kitchen are just one big room separated by a countertop bar where the drinks and mixers and cups sit.

Fabian nudges him gently and leans over to whisper in his ear.

“Sirius is over there. By the window.”

Remus doesn’t look up. Not yet. If Sirius has spotted him, he doesn’t want to seem obvious. He wants to play it cool, act blasé, make Sirius thirst enough to come to him. He knows he looks particularly good tonight— his jeans are tight and his old _The Cure_ t-shirt is just short enough to show off a strip of his flat stomach when he raises his arms, so Remus decides to use his best assets to draw in his target. It’s a tried and true method. He’s never failed.

He steps out of the kitchen and around to the opposite side of the counter, then leans over just the tiniest bit to pour himself a drink. Sirius should have a good view of his ass from here. Remus stirs the drink slowly, thumb and forefinger holding his straw, and he turns around to take in the crowd, pointedly avoiding Sirius. He leans back against the countertop, takes a sip, closes his eyes, and Remus knows from experience that it’s only a matter of time before the man is drawn over, begging to take Remus back into the bathroom again, or maybe to his place this time. Any minute now, Sirius will be apologizing and kissing him. Literally any _second_ now, and Sirius will—

“Hey.”

Ahhh, and there it is, he thinks, as a hand accompanying the voice he can barely hear over Taylor Swift’s incessant whining comes to rest high on his arm. Sirius, lured over like a moth to a flame, like a child to sugary candy, has come back for more. Remus smirks and stands upright, turning to look up at the man beside him.

“Oh. Uh… hi.”

Bright blue eyes stare back at him, transfixed and shining.

“I’m Evan,” the man says. He’s got dusty brown hair and a sweet smile. He’s cute, Remus thinks, better than average and well-dressed. He looks like someone Remus would’ve dated back in Minneapolis.

“Remus,” he responds, eyes flickering up quickly to Sirius and back again. He’s got an arm thrown around that blonde chick, Marlene, but he is looking. Or, at least, it _looked like_ he is looking.

“Are you here with anyone?” Evan asks. His eyes skim down Remus’s body, clearly approving of what he sees.

“Just some friends," Remus says, pointing toward the twins. “Do you know Fabian and Gideon?”

“No, not really. I only know a few of these people.” Evan shrugs and turns toward the counter, grabbing a cold beer from the open ice chest and twisting it open.

“Oh. Do you know Sirius?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, and he looks across the room toward the window, straight at Sirius. “Yeah, I know him. He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Why do you say that?”

Evan shrugs again. “Nothing specific. He’s just always been a bit of a dick. Thinks he’s better than everyone, you know?”

“No. I mean, I’ve talked to him a few times and he seemed alright.”

“Probably because he was trying to sleep with you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do right now?” Remus retorts with a smirk. “Coming over here and touching my arm? Because I’ll tell you now, I’m not looking for that tonight.”

“I assume you get that a lot, looking the way you do,” Evan says, and Remus laughs before he takes another sip of his drink and sets it on the counter. “And I definitely wouldn’t turn you down, but no. Believe it or not, some guys actually would like to just talk to you. Or dance.”  
  
“You want to dance?”  
  
“Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks for asking.” Evan shoots him a cocky grin and sets his beer down beside Remus’s drink before grabbing him and leading him into the crowd of people.  
  
Remus can only gape at Evan over the slick move he just pulled. He doesn’t know the current song playing, but he lets himself find the rhythm and move with this new stranger, he allows Evan to hold him close and touch his hips, and it feels so nice to let loose. He sneaks a quick glance at Sirius, just to see if he’s being watched, and preens a bit when their eyes meet across the room, a flashback to their first meeting. He’s difficult to read, though, his face is seemingly void of emotion— Remus can’t tell if he’s angry or jealous or simply uncaring.

He’s not sure how much time passes or how many songs have played, but he’s utterly exhausted and sweating when Evan leads him back to the counter bar for fresh drinks. He searches for the twins as Evan makes him a drink and just as he takes the cup, it’s swiftly knocked out of his hand and onto his shirt.  
  
“What the fuck?!” he shouts, glaring up at the culprit as Evan is snatched up by the back of his denim jacket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The ruckus has caused someone to cut the music and all eyes in the room to fall upon the three of them— Remus in his dripping wet t-shirt (and not even remotely in a sexy way; it’s black and reeks of vodka now), and Sirius twisting both of Evan’s arms behind his back into some kind of horrible pretzel.  
  
“He spiked your drink,” Sirius snarls, pinning Evan down against the counter as he wriggles and protests incoherently. Bottles and plastic cups topple over and spill onto the counter and floor, and Remus spots their host, Benjy, looking absolutely mortified, but whether that’s out of shock over the unfolding scene or the liquor ruining his beige carpet, Remus isn’t sure.

“He did not!” Remus cries, but he knows Evan very well could have. He doesn’t know this man at all. He doesn’t know any of these people. He doesn’t know Sirius— he could be lying. He barely knows Fabian and Gideon. He’s suddenly aware of just how alone he is in this place, and he wants to leave. Immediately.

“I just sat there and fucking watched him do it, Remus. Jamie, call the police,” Sirius says, nodding at a dark-haired guy who quickly pulls his phone out of his pocket and steps outside with a pretty red-haired woman.

“Well good job, you spilled the evidence all over me, you complete idiot!” Remus snaps, grabbing a handful of napkins and wiping himself down as best he can, but to no avail. He’s soaked. “Fuck this, I’m going home.” He throws the wadded up napkins onto the counter and makes for the front door.  
  
“I was only looking out for you!” Sirius hollers after him.

“Thanks, I guess, but I’m not yours to look after!” he yells back, then promptly slams the door behind him.  
  
Remus doesn’t know where the Prewetts are, and frankly, he doesn’t want to drag them into his drama, so he just starts walking in the direction of his apartment until he finds a bus stop and waits. Thankfully, he only had about half of a drink tonight, so he’s still in his right mind for the most part.

——

Later, when he’s showered off and lying in bed, he thinks about his parents and friends back home, and about how he’s not making any leeway here. One step forward, two steps back.  
  
Minnesota is so much calmer than all of this. People are polite. They’re friendly. They don’t pretend to like you to get laid. They don't spike your drink.  
  
At least the twins knocked on his door earlier to make sure he was alright, he supposes.

Remus rolls over onto his side and sighs, snuggling deeper into his blankets just as his phone dings an alert for a new message. He grabs his glasses from the bedside table and picks up his phone to read it before shutting it off for the night. It’s just one single word there on his screen, blinking at him pitifully.

**Sirius** : Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://remus-john-lupin.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
